So I’m clearly bored at work an have been stalking Wonkette even more intensely than usual. In the comments of one of the posts (yeah, maybe I read all the comments. I also read magazines cover to cover, and maybe take pills for that), I found a GENIUS website: www.hillaryismomjeans.com.
Now, I’m not one of those people who hates Hillary Clinton. In fact, I think she’s pretty great. But this shit is hilarious. (Think of Chuck Norris jokes, but in reverse.) Feel free to substitute “Mallory” for “Hillary” if that makes you feel better. Here are some of my favorites:
Hillary gave Jessie the caffeine pills.
Hillary ate all the bugles.
Hillary likes glitter.
Hillary wants less cowbell.
Hillary sings the FreeCreditReport.com jingle.
Hillary yells “Freebird” at your concert.
Okay sorry it was hard to stop. But here’s the best one:
Thanks to NYC Correspondent Annie, we are considering starting a new regular feature: great six-word headlines where the work is done for us. For instance:
“Japan’s newest growth industry: Asian tourists”
You can read the whole article here, but don’t bother. The title’s the only entertaining part. Keep an eye out for more of these, or send your own excellent six-word headlines to sixwordstochangetheworld@gmail.com.
We all know that The Breakfast Club is a great movie. I mean that dialogue, those clothes, that touchy-feely message, and the romance? Cinematic genius. Last night I went up to Red Rocks to see the movie as part of their summertime film series, Film on the Rocks. Rather than sitting in a theater, you get to watch movies in a place that looks like this:
Amazing, right? The movie experience is enhanced to begin with based on the setting, and then on top of that, people are generally a lot more vocal during the movie. They cheer at everything, and throw in great comments like “Emiliooooooooooo!” or “What a bitch!” when Molly Ringwald is being annoying. All of this, plus The Breakfast Club’s sheer greatness, made me love the movie even more. And Judd Nelson? HOT. Who knew the Seattle grunge look, bike gloves, and a nose scar could be so attractive?
As Kathleen would say, rawr!
And look how fashion-forward Claire was:
High-waisted skirt? Check. Riding boots? Check. AND she eats sushi.
I’ve been sketching around IMDB to keep my Breakfast Club fix going, and I found this excellent tagline for the film:
They were five total strangers, with nothing in common, meeting for the first time. A brain, a beauty, a jock, a rebel and a recluse. Before the day was over, they broke the rules. Bared their souls. And touched each other in a way they never dreamed possible.
Touched each other in a way they never dreamed possible? Shit, they must have shown the PG version last night.
In other news, I have decided that this is the best line in the whole movie, spoken by Emilio himself:
Yo wastoid, you’re not gonna blaze up in here.
I’m totally incorporating ‘wastoid’ into my daily vocabulary.
Okay let’s watch one quick clip and then we can all get back to work. According to my friend Leah, this is the best scene. I think I’d have to agree:
Bitchin’.
UPDATE: Neo, our soon-to-be Eastern Hemisphere Correspondent, just informed us that there is a terrible, terrible new JCPenney ad with all the key scenes from TBC, only with more racial diversity. Take a look:
For the record, Molly Ringwald would NEVER wear anything from JCPenney.
Courtesy of my boyfriend Annie, our NYC correspondent, take a look at this Politico article about McCain’s off-color humor (which we’ve discussed a lot at SWTCTW…here and here and here). Here’s an excerpt:
McCain’s humor, by contrast, makes him the political counterpart of the radio host Don Imus (whom he has defended): It’s sharp, unrehearsed and, at times, way, way over the line. This cycle, he’s drawn winces, and worse, for everything from a joking reference to domestic violence to a now-notorious little ditty about bombing Iran. Earlier in his political career, the Arizona press reported that he’d cracked a rape joke that would now probably end any politician’s career, a joke his aides then and now say he doesn’t recall making.
In case you hadn’t heard amidst the news of the Barackstar hanging out in Germany, John McCain will be in the great state of Colorado today. Woo hoo! While driving to work this morning, I passed the Grand Hyatt where McCain will speak to a group of veterans, and I was relieved, for his sake, to see that there were actually reporters there. (We’re clearly not huge fans of Johnny here at SWTCTW, but I’m starting to almost pity the old guy. Did you hear about how he watched Obama’s speech to four billion Germans from a German restaurant in Ohio? Oh, John.)
I wanted to liveblog McCain’s speech today, but then I realized that a) I’m not a veteran and thus wouldn’t be allowed into the event, b) I have to work today, and c) even if those other two things weren’t true, my laptop is so fragile and close to death that it cannot leave the house. So, no liveblogging.
One time, my roommate painted me naked for one of her art projects. Before you think this is really scandalous, let me clarify- I was wearing a bra and she made up my boobs. (One night, after having a little too much wine, I went on and on about how she painted them saggy. They are, in real life and the painting, anything but. HA!) As part of her project’s theme, she censored my face. The painting was picked up by one of our university’s academic journals, and suddenly, fliers of my body were all around school. Everywhere I looked I saw myself. And even though you couldn’t see my face, I felt like I was in that dream where you are naked in front of the entire school. Because I was. Anyway, that’s a long introduction to what I really want to talk about. Imagine if you were on the cover of an album that represented an entire generation, naked. So basically, naked in front of the entire universe.
Meet Spencer Elden. Well, you’ve already met him. In the quasi-intimate sense. He’s the baby on Nirvana’s famous “Nevermind” album, floating merrily along reaching for that dolla dolla bill, ya’ll.
And NPR (I love love love NPR) did a story on him.
“Quite a few people in the world have seen my penis,” he says from his home in Los Angeles. “So that’s kinda cool. I’m just a normal kid living it up and doing the best I can while I’m here.”
You know what, that is kinda cool. Power to you, man. Wonder what it’s like to be him on a daily basis?
“My friend is all like, ‘Hey I saw you today.’ And I’m like, ‘Dude, I was working all day.’ And he’s like, ‘No, I went to Geffen Records, and you’re on the floor and you’re floating and I stepped on your face. ‘Cause I guess they have like a floating thing where people can like walk on me and stuff … so it’s kinda cool,” he says.
That’s kinda cool too, Spencer. He might just be one of the most non-famous famous kids out there. And he’s kind of kickass. Badass too, because his parents sent him to military school for a bit. Here he is now, all growed up:
Read the piece on this kid. He doesn’t just smell like teen spirit, he reeks of it. Kurt Cobain would be proud, dude.
So I’m filling out a loan application, and the official loan papers have some specific requirements for certain states. Most of them say stuff about attorney’s fees that I don’t understand, but the state-specific rule for Alabama was pretty simple. It said only this:
“CAUTION — IT IS IMPORTANT THAT YOU THOROUGHLY READ THE CONTRACT BEFORE YOU SIGN IT.”
Excellent.
Okay now I’m off to drink margaritas and watch The Breakfast Club at Red Rocks. Be jealous.
I’m pretty open about the fact that I’m obsessed with the snarky political commentary site Wonkette. Recently, I’ve been loving their mockery of the American Family Association’s efforts to Boycott McDonald’s. (Background on Wonkette’s mockery here; link to the Boycott McDonald’s website here.) Basically, McDonald’s donated some money to the National Gay and Lesbian Chamber of Commerce, a bunch of self-righteous, intolerant people got angry, and these people decided to clog their arteries at another establishment. They are encouraging their fellow Christians to boycott America’s favorite fast food restaurant with persuasive, well-written comments like these:
“I`m sorry that you have made the decision that heterosexul folks such as i are not welcome in your resturants any longer. i will not argue your decision. By giving your resturants sapport to the homosexual groups you have told me my believes and lifestyle are not yours and i`m not welcome in your resturants anylonger.”
The group’s latest — and by far, most hilarious — weapon is this gem of a video:
Eh, we were always Wendy’s girls here at SWTCTW. Mmm, Baconator.
We’ve discussed plastic surgery a little here at SWTCTW. As I mentioned in this post,I think plastic surgery trends are getting a leetle nuts these days, and my thoughts and fears were confirmed by one of today’s New York Times articles. In “It’s Botox For You, Dear Bridesmaids,” Abby Ellin talks about the latest fad in plastic surgery: brides encouraging and/or paying for their bridesmaids to get everything from Botox to boob jobs.
To begin with, I’m the kind of girl who thinks that over-the-top weddings are unnecessary. I know that many women want their wedding to be the best day ever and are happy to spend bajillions of Daddy’s dollars on the perfect ceremony, but I just don’t see the point. Give me an “I do”, a cake, and a party with an open bar, and I’ll be happy. But all those things aside, plastic surgery for bridesmaids strikes me as out-of-this-world absurd. In the article, the brides who want to Botox their BFFs seem to want to do it as a gift. As 35-year-old bride-to-be Kasey Knauer explains:
“Giving them a bracelet isn’t as special as spending an evening together. Plus, as you get older, everyone is more conscientious about their skin and appearance,” she said. “Giving them something for themselves — as opposed to something that they’ll never wear again — is more meaningful.”
And I guess if her bridesmaids are the kind of people who would want Botox anyway, that is a pretty nice gift. Still, the whole thing strikes me as a little Stepford wife-y. As in, “My bridesmaids will wear perfect matching dresses, they will be skinny, and they will NOT be wrinkled. Smile, girls!.”
Other brides are encouraging their bridesmaids to get their teeth whitened or go tanning before the wedding so that they all look more or less the same. One bride took things a little far:
…two women were claustrophobic and couldn’t bear standing in a tanning capsule. “They asked the bride if they could use regular tanning cream from a salon,” Ms. Goldberg said. The bride refused; she wanted everyone to be the same shade. The women ultimately declined to be bridesmaids. “Friendships of 20-plus years gone over a spray tan?” Ms. Goldberg said. “Sad!”
By that logic, I’d have to make my token Asian friend work the guest book. Sorry, Walsher.
Even more disturbing than the Botox and the tanning, some brides are requesting that their bridesmaids get breast implants:
Becky Lee, 39, a Manhattan photographer, declined when a friend asked her — and five other attendants — to have their breasts enhanced. “We’re all Asian and didn’t have a whole lot of cleavage, and she found a doctor in L.A. who was willing to do four for the price of two,” said Ms. Lee, who wore a push-up bra instead.
Call me old-fashioned, but if a friend asked me to get a boob job for her wedding, I think I’d be insulted. Getting me into an unflattering dress would be hard enough, but getting me to go under the knife? Ha! What happened to mani/pedis and lunch with the girls?
six words to change the world. 